It’s a girl.
Blonde hair tucked behind her ears. Scarf pulled up almost to her chin like she’s trying to disappear behind it. She’s not looking at me - she’s looking at the yard, at the trees,anywhere but the house behind her.
Something about that makes me turn fully.
Most people at these things are trying to getintothe party. She looks like she’s trying to escape it.
“You hiding too?” I ask.
She startles slightly. Like she hadn’t noticed me yet.
Then her eyes land on me, and I watch her clock who I am. There’s a flicker there - recognition, obviously, everyone at this college knows my face - but it’s not the usual thing. No wide eyes. No nervous smile. Just… acknowledgment.
Then she looks away again.
“Something like that.”
Her voice is quiet. Low. The kind of voice that makes you listen harder without thinking about it.
I turn back toward the railing, but I don’t move away. Neither does she.
We stand there for a minute. The noise from inside swells and fades as someone opens the door and lets it close again. Frost glitters on the porch steps under the weak porch light.
“Not a party person?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Not athisparty person.”
“What’s wrong with this party?”
She shoots me a look - dry and amused.
“How much time do you have?”
I laugh, which surprises me. “Fair. I’ll try not to take offense.”
Another silence. Easier this time.
I take a long drink from my beer and watch her from the corner of my eye. She’s still not looking at me - she’s still watching the dark yard like it’s more interesting than anything inside - but she doesn’t seem uncomfortable. Just… present. That’s rarer than you’d think.
“I’m Zane,” I say.
She glances over. Nods.
“I know.”
No name back.
I wait for it. The normal rhythm of conversation - you say your name, they say theirs. That’s how it works.
She just looks at me. Not challenging. Not shy either.
The door bangs open behind us.
“Blake! There you are. Russo’s looking for you, something about-”
I hold up a hand without turning around.
“One minute.”
